A drum and bass soundtrack to an adventure into the depths of a fantasy city. Studio Ghibli meets JRPG meets the Amen break.

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“Yeah, but where does it all come from?” Peatree asked, gesturing at the lush forest and the city beyond it. She moved awkwardly, still getting used to her long limbs after a late teenage growth spurt.
“The suns, dummy. That’s how all the plants grow,” Flisk responded, squinting and pointing up through the canopy at the bright spheres beyond it. “And the panels give us all the energy we need for the city to run.”

They continued to stroll through the greenery, their bare feet pressing into the mossy ground covering the roof of their spire. “Well, I know about photosynthesis, duh. But what about the metal we use to build the panels and the glowstone that powers the reactors?”

Flisk furrowed his brow and frowned, peering at his sister from below the thick curls of hair that partly covered his eyes. “Madame Trundo says we get it from The Deep.”

“And what is The Deep, anyway? Have you ever seen it?”

“Of course not; Umbra’s dangerous. We can’t go down there. Why would you want to, anyway? We’ve got everything we need up here,” he said, plucking a fresh mango from a tree as they passed. He bit into it, juice dripping down his chin.

Peatree glanced at his sloppy eating and scrunched her face in disgust. “There’s more to the world than the Aura, Flisk. I don’t think Trundo is telling the whole story. I heard Pa talking to Mum about riots down below.”

Flisk shrugged and walked over to the tower's edge, peering down at the sprawling cityscape below. Sailships soared past, forming dense lines snaking around the verdant scrapers of the upper city. Far below, the lower city's neon and smog were barely visible through the haze. “Looks dirty and boring to me,” Flisk said, chucking the mango’s pit off the edge and watching it sail down to land in a rooftop garden bed far below.

Peatree joined him at the edge, chiding him, “Don’t litter; you might hit someone!” Flisk looked at her sideways and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, uncaring.

“I still want to know,” Peatree said quietly, staring down. They paused their chatter and stood, watching the bustle of the cities and feeling the gentle breeze rustle their clothes. Peatree leaned against the railing, her hands pressed onto the metal barrier. Glancing down at the view below, her eye caught the strange birthmark on her right hand. The squiggly half-circle of light pinkish-white flesh stood out against her tan skin in the late afternoon light. It lay on top of her hand, the line tracing a path from the knuckle of her index finger towards her forearm, then back, terminating at the knuckle of her pinky.

After contemplating the scene momentarily, she snapped out of her reverie and hefted her rucksack, strapping it on. She tapped a button on her belt, and knee and elbow pads snapped out of the fabric. She looked at Flisk and grinned.

“Peatree, don’t! Don’t do it! Not again. You know it’s forbidden.”

She smirked back at him, a devilish look in her eyes. “I’ll tell Françoise you like her unless you come with me. Last one to the lift has to talk to Mum if we get caught.” Then she leaped over the edge, sliding down the sinuous tree trunks wrapped around the building, plunging to the lower levels.

Treetops

World Worm